


no roses rise from dust

by thirteenghosts (newsbypostcard)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8217299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/thirteenghosts
Summary: Goodnight tries to leave with nary a word, and Billy--  Billy crowds his space, fist in his collar. "I saw your horse downstairs." It takes a second, but the smile finally drops off Goodie's face. "It's best if you just let me go, Billy."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a deleted scene just before, obviously, Chisolm tries to talk Goodnight out of leaving and we see Billy drinking liberally in the saloon. I tried to resist but it was writing itself.

  


Goodnight's face registers regret in full rebuke before evening to neutrality, when Billy grabs his arm.

Billy stares at him, then exhales. "So we've reached this day."

Goodnight has two options. He can respond to the accusation or turn to ignorance. That he chooses the latter tells Billy everything. "The day I go for a drink?"

"You're not going for a drink."

"You're right. I'm going for a smoke." He fishes the roll-up out of Billy's pocket. It says enough about Billy, too, that he lets him do it. He still pushes Goodie into the room he'd been trying to leave. 

Goodie staggers backward, letting the momentum guide him. His back hits the wall. Billy crowds his space, fist in his collar. 

Goodie laughs, halfway a wheeze, grin drawn and smelling of whiskey. "In that sort of mood, are you?"

"I want answers."

"So say we all."

"You intend to leave."

"I intend to take a walk and enjoy this smoke."

"Your belongings are gone. I saw your horse downstairs."

It takes a second, but the smile finally drops off Goodie's face. He tries to push Billy aside, but there's no heart in it. "It's best if you just let me go, Billy."

" _Best._ " Billy shakes his head. "For you."

"For everyone." He tilts his face up, alight in jagged vectors. "Believe me." He's not chewing a thing but he turns and spits into the corner anyway -- bile, or regret.

Billy lets his lungs deflate. "I have never known you to be a coward, Goodnight."

"Well, that's your mistake. I've been a coward since the day we met."

Billy tightens his fist, slams him hard against the wall. Goodnight's up on his toes, at his mercy. "That's a lie."

"I lie about a lot of things."

"You're deceiving yourself. You lack clarity."

Of all the things he expects from Goodnight, a sigh of sympathy is not among them. "Billy," he says, soft, and reaches a thumb to touch at his chin.

Billy dodges the gesture; lets Goodnight back down on his heels, presses his fist hard. "You won't charm your way out of this."

"Billy," he says again. He cuts his gaze away. "You should've let me go."

"Without a word."

"It was easier."

"For you."

"For _you_ ," Goodnight says, and this time does not hide from him.

Billy breathes, a second. There's no tremor in his fist where his knuckles press into his chest; he's relieved. "Goodie," he says. "This partnership is -- unique."

"Billy, there are things they want me to do--"

"This is one fight. To walk away from this, from _everything_ \--"

"It's one fight in a war that doesn't end." Goodie shakes his head. "I'm no soldier. Not anymore."

"So you're giving it all over, for this."

"Billy. Come on now. You know better. There's nothing left of me to give."

The hard truth is: Billy knows that better than anyone. "Goodnight, recognize what you are walking away from. We will never find this in another place."

"We were never meant to find this at all." Goodnight wraps his fingers around Billy's fist and divests his collar from it. "Some things aren't destined to survive."

Goodnight lets go of his hand. Without a point for purchase, Billy feels composure slipping. " _You_ will, now." It's rough in his throat. "Convenient."

"I won't," Goodnight says. "I haven't survived a thing."

The trouble is that Billy knows better than this, too: knows the moments when Goodnight's most alive come fast and furious, with heaving laughter and dancing eyes. "You look alive to me."

"Look harder," Goodnight says, and pushes past him without a backward glance.

Billy looks at the space that Goodnight left and listens to his footsteps as he leaves the room. They are steady, they are stubborn; they disappear into the night.

He doesn't stop him, though he knows that he could.

  


* * *

  


He doesn't drink often. It's just that --

Fighting without Goodie is a thought to forget.

  


* * *

  


He finds the flask the following morning -- laid out, intentional, in farewell or support.

Billy fills it for good measure, and carries them both.

  



End file.
